


Anonymously

by lastSaskatchewanPirate



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Love Confession, M/M, embarrassing levels of fluff, even fluffier than that, love letter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 21:00:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12516464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastSaskatchewanPirate/pseuds/lastSaskatchewanPirate
Summary: Love is many things.  Sometimes it's easier than you'd think.





	Anonymously

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: I Don't Even Know, You Guys.
> 
> ... I actually kind of like how this turned out, despite also being deeply embarrassed by it. Ostensibly its MegOp, but really it could work for an awful lot of pairings, given that it's an unaddressed love letter ...

I could love you.

I could love you so easily, if I’d just let myself. If you’d just let me.

I could love you – all of you. Everything you were, everything you are, everything you could have been, everything you might be. I could love you, all of you; I could keep you and hold you in my heart, all of you, if you’d let me. 

If I’d let myself.

I thought, once, that I loved you, but hindsight shows that first hot flush as mere infatuation. All potential future, no past; unmoored, adrift on the sea of possibilities. Infatuation drowned me, and I drowned it in turn. Infatuation is a fleeting, fragile thing that fades even as it flowers – into love, into apathy, into hate – and cannot stand as itself against the tides of time, knowledge, familiarity. Infatuation is brief.

I thought, once, that I hated you; that rage had burned away any chance of love. That the leap in my heart when I saw you was loathing, that the heat in my veins was anger.

I didn’t let myself think very closely about that heat. I tried to convince myself it was hate.

Sometimes I even succeeded.

I thought, once, that you no longer mattered to me. I thought I had scoured my soul clean of attachment. I thought I had freed myself of memories … of regret, of recompense, of responsibility. I thought that I was done with you, as you were with me.

Apparently the universe had other ideas on that subject.

I think, now, that I could love you, if you’d let me. If I’d let myself. I think I could love you so easily, in the way that I could never love myself, because in you I have always seen all the things that my self is missing.

I’ve run out of reasons to hide behind. I’ve run out of the will to hold you at bay.

I am alone, and so weary of loneliness, and I know that you understand that, because I know you’re lonely, too.

These all sound like such terrible reasons to let myself love you. The truth is that they are terrible reasons to convince myself that I don’t love you already, and that I always have, and that I always will.

It is, after all, so very easy to love you.


End file.
